Up and down the oaken stairways flitted dainty-footed ladies, Lighting up the shadowy twilight with the l.u.s.tre of their bloom; Like the varied sunlight streaming through an old cathedral window Went their brightness glancing through the unaccustomed gloom, But Blue-beard's wife was restless, and a strong desire possessed her Through it all to get a single peep at that forbidden room.

And so one day she slipped away from all her guests, unnoted, Down through the lower pa.s.sage, till she reached the fatal door, Put in the key and turned the lock, and gently pushed it open-- But, oh the horrid sight that met her eyes! Upon the floor There were blood-stains dark and dreadful, and like dresses in a wardrobe, There were women hung up by their hair, and dripping in their gore!

Then, at once, upon her mind the unknown fate that had befallen The other wives of Blue-beard flashed--'twas now no mystery!

She started back as cold as icicles, as white as ashes, And upon the clammy floor her trembling fingers dropped the key.

She caught it up, she whirled the bolt to, shut the sight behind her, And like a startled deer at sound of hunter's gun, fled she!

She reached her room with gasping breath,--behold, another terror!

Upon the key within her hand; she saw a ghastly stain; She rubbed it with her handkerchief, she washed in soap and water, She scoured it with sand and stone, but all was done in vain!

For when one side, by dint of work, grew bright, upon the other (It was bewitched, you know,) came out that ugly spot again!

And then, unlooked-for, who should come next morning, bright and early, But old Blue-beard himself who hadn't been away a week!

He kissed his wife, and, after a brief pause, said, smiling blandly: "I'd like my keys, my dear." He saw a tear upon her cheek, And guessed the truth. She gave him all but one. He scowled and grumbled: "I want the key to the _small room_!"

Poor thing, she could not speak!

He saw at once the stain it bore while she turned pale and paler, "You've been where I forbade you! Now you shall go there _to stay_!

Prepare yourself to die at once!" he cried. The frightened lady Could only fall before him pleading: "Give me time to pray!"

Just fifteen minutes by the clock he granted. To her chamber She fled, but stopped to call her sister Anne by the way.

"O, sister Anne, go to the tower and watch!" she cried, "Our brothers Were coming here to-day, and I have got to die!

Oh, fly, and if you see them, wave a signal! Hasten! hasten!"

And Anne went flying like a bird up to the tower high.

"Oh, Anne, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"

Called the praying lady up the tower-stairs with piteous cry.

"Oh Anne, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"

"I see the burning sun," she answered, "and the waving gra.s.s!"

Meanwhile old Blue-beard down below was whetting up his cutla.s.s, And shouting: "Come down quick, or I'll come after you, my la.s.s!"

"One little minute more to pray, one minute more!" she pleaded-- To hope how slow the minutes are, to dread how swift they pa.s.s!

"Oh Anne, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"

She answered: "Yes I see a cloud of dust that moves this way."

"Is it our brothers, Anne?" implored the lady. "No, my sister, It is a flock of sheep." Here Blue-beard thundered out: "I say, Come down or I'll come after you!" Again the only answer: "Oh, just one little minute more,--one minute more to pray!"

"Oh, Anne, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"

"I see two hors.e.m.e.n riding, but they yet are very far!"

She waved them with her handkerchief; it bade them, "hasten, hasten!"

Then Blue-beard stamped his foot so hard it made the whole house jar; And, rushing up to where his wife knelt, swung his glittering cutla.s.s, As Indians do a tomahawk, and shrieked: "How slow you are!"

Just then, without, was heard the beat of hoofs upon the pavement, The doors flew back, the marble floors rang to a hurried tread.

Two hors.e.m.e.n, with their swords in hand, came storming up the stairway, And with one swoop of their good swords they cut off Blue-beard's head!

Down fell his cruel arm, the heavy cutla.s.s falling with it, And, instead of its old, ugly blue, his beard was b.l.o.o.d.y red!

Of course, the tyrant dead, his wife had all his vast possessions; She gave her sister Anne a dower to marry where she would; The brothers were rewarded with commissions in the army; And as for Blue-beard's wife, she did exactly as she should,-- She wore no weeds, she shed no tears; but very shortly after Married a man as fair to look at as his heart was good.

[Color Plate:]

The little brown owl sits up in the Tree, And if you look well His big eyes you may see.

He says Whit a whoo, when the night grows dark, And he hears the dogs and the little foxes bark.

THE SLEEPING PRINCESS

Versified by Clara Doty Bates

The ringing bells and the booming cannon Proclaimed on a summer morn That in the good king's royal palace A Princess had been born.

The towers flung out their brightest banners, The ships their streamers gay, And every one, from lord to peasant, Made joyful holiday.

Great plans for feasting and merry-making Were made by the happy king; And, to bring good fortune, seven fairies Were bid to the christening.

And for them the king had seven dishes Made out of the best red gold, Set thickly round on the sides and covers With jewels of price untold.

When the day of the christening came, the bugles Blew forth their shrillest notes; Drums throbbed, and endless lines of soldiers Filed past in scarlet coats.

And the fairies were there the king had bidden, Bearing their gifts of good-- But right in the midst a strange old woman Surly and scowling stood.

They knew her to be the old, old fairy, All nose and eyes and ears, Who had not peeped, till now, from her dungeon For more than fifty years.

Angry she was to have been forgotten Where others were guests, and to find That neither a seat nor a dish at the banquet To her had been a.s.signed.

Now came the hour for the gift-bestowing; And the fairy first in place Touched with her wand the child and gave her "Beauty of form and face!"

Fairy the second bade, "Be witty!"

The third said, "Never fail!"

The fourth, "Dance well!" and the fifth, "O Princess, Sing like the nightingale!"

The sixth gave, "Joy in the heart forever!"

But before the seventh could speak, The crooked, black old Dame came forward, And, tapping the baby's cheek,

"You shall p.r.i.c.k your finger upon a spindle, And die of it!" she cried.

All trembling were the lords and ladies, And the king and queen beside.

But the seventh fairy interrupted, "Do not tremble nor weep!

That cruel curse I can change and soften, And instead of death give sleep!

"But the sleep, though I do my best and kindest, Must last for an hundred years!"

On the king's stern face was a dreadful pallor, In the eyes of the queen were tears.

"Yet after the hundred years are vanished,"-- The fairy added beside,-- "A Prince of a n.o.ble line shall find her, And take her for his bride."

But the king, with a hope to change the future, Proclaimed this law to be: That, if in all the land there was kept one spindle, Sure death was the penalty.